Saudade
by sockstar
Summary: A feeling of nostalgic longing for something or someone that one was fond of and which is lost. Dark Creddie. Two-shot.
1. Lacrimosa

**Saudade**

**Rating: **T

**Notes: **Written for the croctober fanfic challenge. Contains adult themes, sexual references.

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**Summary: **A feeling of nostalgic longing for something or someone that one was fond of and which is lost. Dark Creddie. Two-shot.

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_Saudade __[saw'dadi] __: A_ _Portuguese and Galician word for a feeling of nostalgic longing for something or someone that one was fond of and which is lost. It often carries a fatalist tone and a repressed knowledge that the object of longing might really never return._

Freddie and Carly both had exceptionally high grades. Freddie was the more naturally gifted, whilst Carly achieved through intense concentration, planning and studying. They both helped each other, multiple subjects taken by both, hours spent together learning.

Carly helped Freddie with her multitude of notes, she could recall even the smallest detail, and Freddie would help Carly by impressing the overall picture, then examining individual pieces for their importance and impact on the situation or problem at hand.

What looked like the inevitable post-graduation breakup was postponed. They didn't plan it. Freddie hadn't hacked into the computers like Sam had joked, or spied, or stalked, or snooped, or intercepted communication to end up in the same place as Carly.

It simply happened. On their large list of potential colleges, they had independently come to the joint conclusion of their first choice. When the acceptances came, on the same day, in the same white envelopes, they all celebrated. Spencer, Sam, Ms Benson, Carly and Freddie together. Sam stayed in Seattle to learn in community college, and moved in with Spencer.

Freddie still harbored his unrequited love for Carly, it had grown even stronger with the time spent together, and hoped that a change of scenery could improve his chances. Carly had not as yet given any indication that would change, but they were happy in their delusions. Freddie pretended that he was over Carly through pained smiles, Carly pretended to believe him, with Sam always ready with an insult or comeback to ensure he kept pretending. In the back of his mind, he wondered just what was wrong with him.

Freddie spent the first year working long, long hours in pursuit of high level computer programming and business courses, and the second year wasn't much better. The time they spent together was minimal, but happy. During their third year they grew apart despite living almost as close as they had back in Seattle. Freddie had become notoriously solitary, hours spent in darkness, watching line after line of code flowing down the screen like rain.

Literal darkness, working at night, free from distraction. The only distraction he allowed himself was Carly, yet he burned inside, as Carly always had male "friends" with her. Freddie made small talk, masking jealousy, bitterness, resentment at her companions, with jokes and laughter, with chit-chat. He still felt in his heart he just had to wait. Eventually he would get his chance.

After these meetings, he would go back to his code. Freddie forced his emotions down. The 1's and 0's that ultimately comprised the words on the screen didn't recognise emotion. Freddie was fine with that. Mentally blank, he could spend hours reading, to create, to fix, to solve, to compile, to code without restriction, without emotion, without error. It became a release of sorts, away from the world, away from Carly, her boyfriends, and his pain, all conveniently bottled away, justified with the idea that it helped him work.

It stayed down for another year, until it finally came boiling over. Only a few short months before they were done, there was a confrontation. He didn't scream. He didn't shout. They didn't throw things, or hurl insults.

He took the seat next to Carly, and went through the mental checklist he had been building for near to a decade, comparing himself to the men and boys that Carly had been with, whilst he watched, and was left to the side. It wasn't something crazy like being secretly related to each other, this might sound terrible, but Freddie had checked and confirmed that wasn't the case. All it took was a hair sample.

"Am I not smart enough?" Most of the people she had dated were in considerably more prestigious courses. Law, Medicine, Theoretical Physics.

"Of course not, you are the smartest person I know." Carly pleaded with him to stop now. Carly knew where this was heading, and she did not like it at all.

"Is it my looks? Am I hideous to you? Do I embarrass you? Do you not want to be around me?" The 3rd was a linebacker on their football team. A colossus amongst men, popular as well. Freddie never thought himself as anything particularly good looking, but he had kept fit, an hour every day, after spending the night on the computer, he would leave, then return just as the sun rose, then slept. At worst he was a little pale, just like almost every science, maths, computing or engineering student was.

"Don't be absurd, you never embarrass me." It was the truth. Carly had never thought that about him. Carly cherished him, admired his work ethic, and treasured his support.

"Did I treat you badly? Do I lie to you? Did I make you feel insignificant? Did I ever _hit _you?" Freddie had found out. Carly never told him because she feared he might do something stupid, but he had ways and means. He made sure the man never so much as spoke to Carly again. Freddie came within a whisker of deciding to kill him, after he implied that it was her own fault, and that she 'had it coming'.

Only the man turning back around suddenly and asking him a random question about what course he was doing, as Freddie's hand trailed over the lamp on the desk, kept the urge from consuming him. He fled quickly after getting an assurance that he wouldn't go back to Carly, shocked at how close he'd come to cold-blooded murder. It sickened him, made him question his own moral fiber, only to conclude he was simply looking to protect Carly, and that many people in his situation would do the same thing.

Freddie shook the thoughts out of his head, coming back to the matter at hand. His words came in a stream, Carly simply sat there listening. More questions. No, again and again, the answer was No. It wasn't this, it wasn't that.

Freddie lowered his head, ashamed he would even ask the question, "Is my family not good enough? Is it because of money?" The trust funds, the mansions, a 'good name' was attached to another, he knew that his own future profession couldn't compete with that.

That was enough. Carly reached over and slapped Freddie across the face. "You bastard. How dare you. You have known me for how long, and you have the nerve to even think that all I want is money? That I'm some gold-digging slut?" Tears rolled down her face.

"I'm sorry." Freddie held her in his arms. He waited until her sobbing subsided, and asked his final questions.

"Why aren't I good enough for you? I've been with you, by your side, for years, I've loved you unconditionally. What did I do wrong? Why don't I deserve even a single chance?"

Carly had been waiting for it. She knew that he would one day ask it. The problem was that no answer was forthcoming. He hadn't done anything wrong.

"I'm so sorry, but I can't change the way I feel." Carly had often thought about faking it. Attempting to give him a chance, for a few months, to let him see herself as everything Freddie thought she was. The problem was he would see right through such a façade, he would know by looking in her eyes when she finally said 'Yes'. Or maybe he'd delude himself, and not realize until the moment they kissed, or perhaps he'd wait until they first slept together, if he wanted to know just how much of an object of charity he was for Carly. The last thing that he would want is to be patronized by his only, best, friend. That would hurt more than anything in the world in her view.

Freddie sat there for some time with his hands in his head. He didn't blame her. Deep down, for years and years, the thought that Carly would never love him gnawed away at him, the doubt, the fear that she would ultimately reject him completely, and utterly break his heart was always there. Freddie just refused to think about it.

Now, Carly saw all the doubt, the pain, the hurt, the years of rejection came crashing down like a broken dam. He cried, he wailed, he bawled his eyes out, then whimpered some more, talking to himself in low hushed tones not even Carly could understand, half spoken sentences, old conversations brought up, dismissed, cross-checked, along with curses of self-hating invective. On reflection, he wondered why was he stupid enough to delude himself that Carly, or indeed, anyone, would ever actually love him? Sam had told him from the first days that he professed his love for Carly, why hadn't he listened to her and given up right then and there.

Carly held him, wiped his tears away, being the friend she always was, and that she knew Freddie would want. It was strange, comforting the person whose heart you just tore asunder, but he needed her and she wasn't going to shirk their friendship in his time of need.

Once he was finished, Carly looked at Freddie again. She saw a broken man. The eyes that were once filled with life were dull. The smile that brightened her world was replaced with blank, grim coldness. Without a word, he got up, wiped his face, and left.

He filled the remaining time with work, finishing programs, sorting out potential job placements. Carly tried to cheer him up, but there was nothing she could do. The dispassionate emptiness stayed locked in his eyes and nothing could budge it, and it alarmed her.

They all knew what had taken place, and believe that it would just be a phase he went through for a few months before he was back to himself again. Instead, a deep melancholia set in Fredward Benson, the world shifting around him, unseen, unnoticed and Freddie didn't care.

Freddie sat, alone, in his room, just occupying space, getting through days and weeks through set schedules, his studies had been winding down, past final exams. When he had no classes or responsibilities, Freddie would get up, eat breakfast, sit in his chair for hours, and take his lunch out to sit on the bench in the shade, at the park, where Freddie and Carly had first had lunch together when they moved.

Carly would sit and talk with him sometimes about her life, about Sam, Spencer, and Seattle, but only garnered polite, passionless replies. Not the kind of replies from the man Carly had spend hundreds of hours talking with over those last few years. A couple of 'buddies' who had made the long haul from 1st year all the way through to 4th, sat with him occasionally, but they said nothing, they knew how Freddie thought of Carly, and how he needed to work through this.. obliteration of his dreams on his own. Not even a visit from Sam, Spencer and his mother helped.

Sam would try to insult him, punch him in the shoulder, anything to get a reaction, but he sat there, motionless. Spencer tried talking to him, but he was effortlessly deflected, misdirected and nothing important was discussed or revealed, without Spencer even knowing he was being dismissed like an annoying child. Freddie didn't fight his mother like he used to, instead a steady stream, "Yes Mother, no Mother, yes Mother, that sounds good Mother," kept her happy.

Carly tried to talk to him. To Freddie there was nothing to talk about. He wouldn't ever be good enough for Carly, and that's all that mattered. He concluded Carly must have taken pity on him, like an abandoned puppy, or maybe a horse with a broken leg, but Carly never had the heart to put him out of his misery.

Carly thought once they all got back to Seattle, everything would eventually go back to normal. She was shocked to find Freddie had applied, and accepted, a job with a multi-national conglomerate in North Virginia, without telling her.

Before Carly knew it, before she could come to terms with just exactly what she might be losing, he was gone.

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**AN: **This is a two-shot. I was randomly reading wiki one day, something or other, and came across this word, the title. For some reason, it clicked with me.


	2. Dona Eis Requiem

**Chapter Name: **Dona Eis Requiem.

**Notes: **Thanks to **KeyLimePie14**, **Freddie is a G**, **Drag0nLord** and **iLoveiCarly** for their reviews.

**Invader Johnny**: Well, I think it's not so much emo as just losing his verve, his fight, his essence. His love for Carly has been the core of his being for nearly 15 years by the end of his college years, and it's come crashing down on him.

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Freddie showed up to their wedding. The invitation was a punch in the stomach, but the handwritten note, in her handwriting, was a knife in the heart. _I want you to be there. Carly. _Carly had only ever 'wanted' him. Carly wanted his friendship, wanted his company, wanted his help on the old, long gone web-show, wanted him to help with schoolwork, wanted to have lunch with him at college, wanted him to go back to Seattle with her, Sam and Spencer.

Carly had never _needed_ him. Not like he needed her. But he showed up to the wedding out of duty, in New York, the birthplace of the groom, as he sat through the ceremony with an outwardly congenial expression, shook hands with those who came up to him, whilst internally he burned with rage, hatred and jealously towards the man standing by Carly at the altar.

When he heard that certain phrase, he felt the stare of 250 people on the back of his head, and he simply looked up at Carly, beautiful as ever, he saw her smile at him, she knew he wouldn't try something drastic, or disruptive, and she nodded a small thank you to him for it, and he smiled back, a smile that had long since been suppressed, this was no mask, it was simply an unstoppable reflex action.

Carly thought perhaps that now he would come back to them, instead of returning to his solitary, sad and lonely existence. He kept up his facade during the reception at a large 4 star hotel, which only cracked into genuine happiness when Carly spoke to him, happy that Freddie had come, until long after Carly had left for her wedding night.

His mission accomplished, the mask split and fell and he was left mourning in his seat, after all the guests had left, and only cleaners sweeping up the floor remained. He lamented, drowned his sorrows with a bottle of Jack Daniels until Sam and Spencer came back to drag him up to his room, which shared the wall with theirs.

In that horrible zone between just being buzzed, and falling unconscious due to alcohol consumption, he lay there in his bed, unable to sleep because he could hear Sam calling out Spencer's name, his low grunting permeated through the walls, taunting him with knowledge that at that moment, Spencer and Sam, as well as Carly and her groom.. no, husband, were likely making love, and he'd never experienced that. Sex, yes, love, no.

But he never visited them. Freddie told her that he was just so busy working, as he'd very quickly been promoted to overseas postings, but in reality Carly's husband knew about how Freddie felt for her, and threatened him to keep him away. If it was just threats against himself, Freddie wouldn't have cared. But the husband threatened his mother and the man she'd finally found love again with. Freddie also knew that Carly would be happier without him in her life. He was content with sending her postcards to her work address, from various locations, always signed with: _Love, Freddie_.

He didn't came back to Seattle until 10 years later. For Carly, it was too late. Time took it's toll. Freddie had always joked that he'd be her second husband, and if he held out just another few months, that would eventually have become reality. It would have come when her perfect husband, from an old-money clan with a powerful name and much influence, was exposed for having an affair with his secretary, had managed to get the other woman pregnant, then declared he wanted a divorce, leaving Carly's life in ruins.

Carly would have called him, and he would have heard her sobbing down the phone line, 'please come back, Freddie, I _need_ you' and he would have gone back to Seattle that night, would patiently help her through the divorce, helping Carly setup a new business in their old neighborhood as a replacement for his old job. Carly would help Freddie to lose those cold, grim, dark eyes, and replace them with warmth, by joy, passion, faith and with life and eventually they would come to love each other.

Instead, she would simply be alone, just like Freddie was, they had both lost the only person in the world who would make the other truly happy. Neither was to blame, it was just how it worked out.

They liked his attitude, he lived close to the job, he was a 7/7/5, in at 7am, out at 7pm, every single day of the working week. He fixed problems. He could come in to an under performing team, break them, and turn them into something better. He saw the numbers, the facts, broke them down, cleaned out what was needed, and fixed it. If that included people, then he'd fix them. If he couldn't fix them, they were gone.

As the years passed, he was sent to their branch a couple of states away. Then it was in Canada. Then Rio. Then Germany. Then back to the US. The name Benson had become a watchword for mismanagement, if you saw that name in relation to your team, your department, your branch, even your entire country's headquarters, you knew your ass was on the line. He was young, but he got results.

But the attitude wasn't the problem. Being middle management was okay, but you needed more than just cold hard calculation to make it any higher.

It was 2 weeks after being passed over for a promotion because he wasn't "a family man." The problem with being passed over is that the company never kept you on once it happened. People knew that if they wanted to succeed, you had to fit in at the top. It didn't matter anyway they said, he'd make thousands more as a private consultant, going from company to company, week after week, meeting new people, helping them, then moving on before getting to know anyone.

No-one wanted him. No company would take the risk at hiring "Benson". He was tainted by fear, a wake of destruction left at ever turn. They all knew, if you hired Fredward Benson, you would end up in the firing line soon enough.

He had taken down CEO's, CFO's, Chairmen, Board Members, Security Consultants, Department heads, Union bosses, he'd once shut down an entire office, seven hundred and fifty three people, gone, less than a month after he'd been sent there. He indirectly caused 13 divorces, 8 house foreclosures, 7 bankruptcies and 3 suicides. And he didn't care. Behind their backs they called him a robot, ice cold, heartless. A few people who had worked with old acquaintances from Seattle knew better, they felt differently, they felt pity, because they knew how and why his heart was closed off. Only a few things could cause a man to emotionally shut down like that, losing a mother, losing your only son, and losing the woman you loved.

It was the day after he kept his monthly 'appointment' from the woman who looked like Carly, and was paid to answer to her name. Freddie had kept up this charade for years, calling out her name, but he could taste the pity on her lips, felt her judgment when he looked in her eyes, and he saw Carly, and believed he wasn't good enough for her, and knew he would be alone for the rest of his life.

He picked up the gun he'd bought after hearing about the robbery in the house next door. Never fired, cleaned regularly. He brought the gun up to his temple, and squeezed the trigger. Bang. That would be the last sound he'd ever hear, if he'd loaded it. Instead it clicked, dry. No. That wouldn't work. They would know, it would simply add to the shame. He could hear their comments from Sam, from Spencer, from Carly rushing around in his head, as if at his funeral.

"I always knew he was a fucking pussy. What a waste of air. He was never good enough for Carly anyway." Sam was right. Carly was way out of his league, and always had been.

"I glad he never married Carly, if this is all it took to push him over the edge, he'd have hurt her soon enough." Spencer, always looking out for his sister.

"What a sick freak, he hired some hooker slut to pretend to be this girl he supposedly loved, because he wasn't good enough for the real thing. At least he only killed himself, and not the girl he paid." The cops investigating, would uncover him, expose his depravity and only be thankful he hadn't dragged down anyone with him.

Carly was crying. "It was my fault, why did I drive him away?" No matter what, he didn't want Carly to cry or blame herself. This was his own failure, his own weakness.

He put it away, wiped off his fingerprints, locked and sealed it away.

A week later, Freddie went to the kitchen cabinet. He took out the bottle, won nearly 8 months ago as a prize at a celebration of a successful merger, one glass, two, three, the entire bottle. Freddie got in his bed, took the sleeping tablets from the bedside table, his eyes lingered on the picture of Carly, and flashed over the ones of Sam, Spencer, Ms Benson. He missed the warnings on the back, and swallowed three of them, he just wanted to sleep, for the pain to leave him.

They say that your life flashes before your eyes, but Freddie would have concluded that must only happen with there was a shock involved like a car crash, being shot or being stabbed. There was no white light, no chorus of angels, no fiery rivers of hellfire and brimstone, just a typical dream of being with Carly, then darkness, then... nothing.

It was ruled an accident. A mistake. For Ms Benson, for Spencer and Sam, for Carly, that was a small measure of comfort. They could remember the son and the friend, remembered as someone who was taken before his time. Spencer placed the guard of his old fencing sword in the coffin with him, his wife, Sam put in a fatcake, something to eat wherever he was now.

Carly walked up alone, (her husband was on business in Europe), tears cascading down, and put in all the postcards, and a copy of a letter he'd written to Carly before they found they were going to the same college, but never given or delivered to her, promising that no matter where he ended up, he'd still love her, found in his possessions at his house, which Carly had highlighted in bright neon yellow, every use of the word _love_.

But for the people who worked with him, who knew him as the man he became, and knew how he had lived his life. They didn't say anything. They didn't need to. What good would it serve? It wasn't their place. Their place was to offer condolences on behalf of themselves and the company, to speak of the man who supported the company, made the hard decisions, and they took the view that it was not something just anyone could do, to make those decisions for the greater good.

They spoke of his intelligence, his ability to see the bigger picture, to take someone and help them become a better person, that even when he took those decisions, the people never thought they were being downtrodden, or unfairly targeted, that deep down, he was a good man.

What they thought was unspoken, yet understood by all of them. They all knew.

They all knew that Fredward Benson didn't make mistakes.

**End**

**AN**: So there you have it. A really dark fic, tell me what you thought of it, if you liked a certain part, or disliked something. I'll try to get back to you asap. Thanks for reading.


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